Ice Flower
by Jantallian
Summary: Slim is lost – and he's lost Jess – and lost his heart. A simple rescue mission ensnares him in increasingly sinister circumstances, until he is in danger of losing body and soul as well. (Develops relationships from 'The Edge of Evil', 4th final season episode)
1. Chapter 1

_Alone …_

 _across the withered sage_

 _where no birds sing._

 **ICE FLOWER**

Jantallian

 **….**

 **1**

 **Wandering**

 **….**

"Slim! Slim! Answer me, will y'!" Jess Harper's unmistakable holler rang through the hanging veils of mist that wrapped the ice-sheathed pillars of the forest. There was utter silence.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

Alamo moved silently, gracefully, through the trees, his hooves making no sound on the soft leaves of the forest floor, despite the frost that rimed them. Slim felt as if he had gone deaf. The stillness was so deep, the silence so thick. Not a creature stirred, not a bird sang. It was as if every living thing was cowering, hiding from the bite of this bitter cold. Between the bare branches the mist draped a shimmering silver curtain, drifting with a motion of its own, for there was no wind. He shivered and pulled up the collar of his thick sheep-skin jacket. His feet seemed to be freezing in his boots and he longed to bang his gloved hands together to restore the circulation, but something stopped him breaking the surrounding hush with any noise.

Mentally, he was cursing Jess. It was all his fault they were riding out on this ridiculous quest to find a man who could more than take care of himself in the wilds. All because Jess couldn't resist the appeal of a pretty woman, even if she was married to someone else. They'd only dropped in to the Rhodes homestead on the way back from Casper to be neighbourly – and, it had to be said, because another thing Jess couldn't resist was Ann's cooking! But instead of a quiet meal and a rest, they'd found a distraught woman, nearly going out of her mind with worry because her feckless husband had disappeared again. It seemed entirely likely to Slim that Stede Rhodes had reverted to his old habits now, on the edge of winter, when farm-work was at a minimum and he could make a good living by his previous trade of trapping. But Ann's tearful and almost panic-stricken insistence that Stede was a reformed character had more influence on Jess than common-sense did. Slim knew anyway that, where friends were concerned, common-sense was never going to outweigh loyalty in Jess. It was a trait he admired in his partner just as much as it exasperated him.

He gave a sigh and his breath billowed out in a white cloud. It hung before his face like a shroud, joining the freezing vapour shifting and swaying in the cold air. A sudden chill ran up Slim's spine and he shuddered involuntarily. He heard again Ann's horrified whisper: "Men disappear. Each year, about this time. One, two, maybe more. Good men who are never seen again!" And much as he wanted to snap " _Hysterical nonsense!_ ", he could not. Ann Rhodes did not scare easily and there was no mistaking the fear written in her face. Maybe he couldn't blame Jess quite so much. Whatever had happened, Ann believed Stede needed rescuing. But how on earth were they going to find him in this blind, silent, icy wilderness?

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **. . . . .**

"Slim! Slim!" Jess felt as if ice was clogging his vocal chords and strong chill fingers tightening about his throat. "Where are y'? Just shout an' give me a lead!" There was absolutely no answer.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

Alamo paced soundlessly onward. The mist was so thick at ground level that he seemed to be floating. The skeins of vapour rose from it with a life of their own, furling and undulating. It was hard to see even a few paces ahead. Despite the lack of any sunlight, the rime-covered trees were shining with a light of their own. They were like a mirror-maze, each one indistinguishable from the next, confusing sight and creating an uneasy feeling that they were actually moving, closing in …

Slim cursed again. He cursed under his breath because, even when he was alone, he didn't hold with swearing aloud, no matter how much the situation warranted it.

 _But if this situation went on much longer, he was going to get lost!_ And if there was one thing Slim prided himself on – justifiably – it was his knowledge of the territory and his sense of direction. Now, not only did he not know where he was, he had no idea where Jess was either. How had they become separated? One moment they had been following what they hoped was Stede's trail, with Jess riding in front and hanging low over Smoke's shoulder in order to try to track the footprints shrouded beneath the ground mist. The next, he had vanished as if he and his grey mustang had simply merged into the fog or literally been swallowed by it.

Slim shook his head irritably: _this was the stuff of fairy tales by the fireside_! But he couldn't rid himself of the sound of Ann's words: _'Men disappear!'_ And Jess had done just that. Real fear clenched its grip on Slim's heart. _If something had happened to Jess …_

But no good was going to come of speculating and scaring himself silly just because of some thick mist. Jess was perfectly capable of looking after himself and, after years on the drift, few people could equal his survival skills. _Besides_ , Slim told himself firmly, _panicking was not going to help._

He dragged his thoughts back to practical consideration of where they had been going. If Jess had any sense at all – and there had been numerous occasions on which Slim had had good reasons to question this! – he would be heading for the one obvious landmark Ann had been able to identify for them. Stede had gone up to the mountain lake to try to catch some wild duck for supper. It was not far. And the obvious course was to ride up hill and hope that Jess was doing the same. He turned Alamo confidently and urged him upwards, still keeping a sharp ear open for any sounds which might indicate they were both riding in the same direction.

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **. . . . .**

"Listen" Jess whispered sternly to his horse. The grey tossed his head and then rubbed it affectionately against his rider, nearly sending him staggering. Jess was one of the few humans Smoke tolerated, but his partiality could be something of a liability. "Listen!" Jess told him again, pulling the soft, sharp ears with a gentle hand. In other circumstances, he would have been riding Traveller and Trav would have no difficulty or hesitation in locating Alamo. But Smoke was still learning the level of communication and co-operation which Jess expected and you can't teach a horse anything without taking him out into the Big Open. "Listen!" Jess stilled himself totally as he followed his own instruction. The grey huffed out a cloud of breath and became still too. His ears pricked and his head went up. But listen as they might, there was nothing to hear.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

Alamo continued to move smoothly, silently, up the mountainside. It was like riding in a dream. The veils of mist, parting and closing again, the smooth, glittering trunks of the trees, the ceiling of luminous fog just above them, the complete absence of sound, were all mesmerising. They were drifting, floating rootless in a colourless world of smooth, sinuous shapes, sliding light and sudden patches of opaque shadow.

Slim felt he was riding farther and farther away from all that was familiar and human. This land was ancient and powerful in its own right. It had been alive long before human beings came to walk it and it would endure when they were long gone. And the people who belonged here, he knew, venerated the land and treated every part of the earth with reverence and respect. So the land nurtured and empowered them. At times like this, Slim had a vivid sense of this mighty harmony and wished there was some other way to live in this good country, the best country there was. To live without fences and boundaries, without plundering the landscape, without leaving a mark on the earth.

He felt equally vividly what made Jess so restless at times. How he too felt hemmed in and tied down by roots and responsibilities. How the Open called to him. How the need to be alone and to survive alone did not mean you were lonely. And balancing this, of course, he knew too the deep affection Jess had for the place which was now his home, a love expressed quite rarely but so powerfully that it always stunned Slim. _And where was Jess now, which way was this strange day pulling him?_

The slope upward seemed never-ending. He had no idea whether he was in front or behind the other horse and rider. He could not see any tracks nor hear any hoof-beats nor the creak of the leather harness nor the click of a shoe against stone. Not that he expected to hear anything from Jess. If he chose to, he could move as silently and stealthily as a hunting cougar. The thought made Slim grin a little, despite his worry. Jess's resemblance to a wild cat extended to his habitual snarling response most mornings at being made to get up and work. Both cat and man tended to respond briskly to a bucket of cold water! All the same, Slim did not expect the degree of smooth and silent progress from Smoke which Jess could automatically command from Traveller. He was unwillingly impressed, since he had considerable doubts about Jess's decision to train the unpredictable grey as his second string, not to mention the wisdom of riding him on their recent trading trip to Casper.

 _Which brought him right back to the question of where was Jess_? It was perfectly possible that a horse still learning its trade could have spooked and fallen or simply refused to go any further in these conditions. He didn't think there was any chance of Smoke deliberately dislodging his rider – he'd see Jess stick on half-broken mustangs far too often to believe that – but accidents did happen. _Perhaps he was lying injured somewhere_? _Unconscious and debilitated by the cold_? He remembered how Jess had suffered during his first winter in Wyoming. _Suppose he was_ _unable to call for help or let Slim know where he was?_

Now Slim was wondering why on earth he was bothering to try to find Stede Rhodes when someone he cared far more about might be desperately needing his help. He drew Alamo to a halt and sat, struggling with his feelings and his priorities, for several minutes. The cold seemed to be literally encasing horse and rider in bonds of frost and their breath came slower and more laboured as slivers of ice pierced their lungs.

It was then that he heard the sound.

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **. . . . .**

There was no sound. Jess and Smoke listened intently for some minutes before Jess decided the only thing he was going to achieve by standing still was frostbite. He couldn't contact Slim by shouting and he couldn't see his trail and he couldn't hear a sound or sense a movement anywhere in the forest. If something had happened, there was no indication of what it was and jumping to conclusions was not going to help. Anyway Slim knew the territory even better than he did and he was perfectly capable to taking care of himself. Deviating from their intended search in order to find him would probably lead Jess into disaster himself. Disaster! _Why was he so certain that some uncanny kind of danger lurked in the icy forest_? Beyond the forest, the upland flattened out around the little lake. The lake was the obvious place to rendezvous and the quicker he got there, the better. Jess shook his head and cleared his mind. He hopped back into the saddle and urged Smoke briskly uphill. The mist closed without a sound behind them.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**


	2. Chapter 2

_The dream_

 _I dreamt_

 _by the chill lake-side._

 **….**

 **2**

 **Dreaming**

 **….**

The sound came again. It was pure. High. Piercing. Reverberating.

A musical note? A voice? A call? Slim could not be certain. It could be a bird or maybe even the call of an animal, a thin echoing howl or a shrill bugle or a mewling screech. He was listening intently and watching Alamo's reactions at the same time. The horse would warn him quicker than his own instincts if they were about to run into a dangerous animal. But Alamo did not react. His ears remained pointing forward and his head was steady. It was almost as if he could not hear the sound at all.

Slim could, though. Just on the edge of hearing, a melancholy strand of music which drew him onwards. It was like the fragile thread of a spider, leading him through the trees, through the mist, calling and luring him ever upwards.

 _Well, upwards was the right direction!_ He urged Alamo on again.

As they neared the plateau at the top of the range, the sound became clearer, though no louder. A silver bell struck lightly would have made much the same sound. A bell - with a crack in it? Soon Slim could distinguish someone singing single notes and words, which fell into the misty silence one at a time like drops of ice.

 _C … ome …_

The sound seemed to quiver, as if the singer was letting out a long shuddering breath.

 _C … ome …_

There was desperation, isolation, heart-wrenching agony in the plea.

 _Find … me …_

His heart turned over. Whoever it was – and it sounded like a woman, a young girl even – they were in a pitiable state of need. His one desire now was to find the singer and to rescue them from the terrible desolation which filled the drifting music. He spurred Alamo into a gallop, regardless of the blind trail and invisible ground beneath them. He could think only of getting to the source of this appeal, to the plateau and to the lake.

The ground, mercifully, began to flatten out. They must have reached the top. As they did so, a faint glow showed through the mist ahead. It was as if horse and rider were charging down a tunnel, the sides milky-white and opaque but the far end a bright halo growing steadily in size and intensity. Despite the fact that Alamo was galloping flat out, they seemed to be travelling slowly … so slowly … as if they were wading through deep water clogged with ice which dragged against the chestnut's legs and slowed the urgent, demanding pace to a crawl. _Would they never reach the end of the tunnel?_

As they neared the halo of light, Slim had an extraordinary sensation of being wrenched out of the world he knew and thrown helpless into the unknown. Yet, as the light shattered around them and they burst out into the open, everything looked entirely normal. The plateau spread before them and the lake lay in frozen calm in the middle of it. The mist clung to the skirts of the forest and rose up to form a huge dome over the upland. Everything was very still except for the violent thudding of Alamo's hooves.

Wondering why he was in such an all-fire hurry, Slim reined in his horse so they did not thunder precipitously into the lake itself. It took a few moments of adjustment before he realized that the halo of light had not, in fact, been shattered, but had refocused itself on another area and object.

Crouched by the shores of the icy lake was a woman.

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **. . . . .**

 _A woman's whim, that was what Slim was going to think of this mission._ As he made his way steadily up the mountain in the hope of finding his partner, Jess was absolutely certain of his reaction. He knew also Slim was far too courteous and too kind to give voice to his misgivings or to refuse to help Ann. On the contrary, Slim would always put the needs of others first and, whatever the circumstances, he would not leave a woman to suffer while he could do something about it. Jess was deeply appreciative of this. His own motivation for trying to rescue Stede went far beyond the responsibility he felt for his friend and sometime companion. Jess trusted Ann on a much deeper level than perhaps he was prepared to admit. If she needed his commitment, he would never deny it. And besides, he knew instinctively she was justified and something was terribly wrong. He saw again her haunted eyes and the deep fear behind them - such terror was totally unexpected in a young woman who had already faced considerable danger and hardship to be with the man she loved. "Men have disappeared. Last year a young lieutenant on furlough. The year before, three deer hunters never came home. Before that, Snakey Sanders, the trapper and a youth who'd come north to homestead with his parents. Over the years, women have lost their husbands, sons, brothers, the ones they loved … they talk in the shadows of something that takes young men. Now, at the turning of the year." He heard the dread in her voice: "Something lures them out there, Jess – and something holds them!"

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

The pale, bright halo hung around the woman like a cloak of light, capturing Slim's gaze inescapably. It shimmered and pulsed as she rocked backwards and forwards, keening softly in tones which pierced right through the heart of the listener, especially one as tender-hearted as Slim. He eased Alamo to a halt while he was still some feet away from the crouching figure and slowly dismounted.

As his feet touched the ground, she became still and silent. As he began to approach her gently and cautiously, she rose lightly to her feet. As he stretched out a hand to help her, she turned and faced him.

She was incredibly beautiful. She stood glowing and slender and proud, as if the anguish of her song had never been. She was dressed in the bridal clothing of a squaw – a long tunic of the finest white doe-skin, intricately ornamented with colourful beads and glittering with polished elks' teeth. Her feet were bare, despite the bitter cold. But she was not a squaw. Her long hair was a deep, rich gold. Into it were braided dark flowers, which stood out vividly in contrast. Her face was perfectly sculpted and totally serene, but her eyes were wild.

Slim moved slowly, cautiously, feeling that this was someone who had no reason to trust other human beings, even though he could not have said how he sensed this. His hand was still outstretched to help her to her feet and a subtle power seemed to vibrate from her fingertips to his. Then their hands met – warmth upon cold, strength upon fragility, certainty upon mystery. She smiled.

 _You came … You found me …_

In his head, the haunting melody continued, though there was no sound in the air. He understood meaning without words, intention without any vocal expression. She smiled. It was enough.

 _Take me home …_

Alamo was standing a few feet away, his head lowered and his wide, dark eyes regarding them warily. He had made no attempt to graze or drink from the lake. If a horse could be spellbound, this one was. Slim clicked his tongue, the usual sound which would summon his mount to him. Alamo did not move a muscle.

Slim felt torn between a need to keep hold of the woman and the necessity of getting close enough to his horse to mount. He pulled gently on the hand enclosed in his and felt her move, seemingly not by taking any steps but as if she drifted above the ground as she followed him, so light was her footfall.

When they reached Alamo, the horse still did not move, but the ripple of a shudder ran across his coat. Slim reached out with his free hand, caressing the lowered head. "Easy, now, boy," He pulled the woman closer and bent to lift her into the saddle. As he did so, he could feel how tense Alamo was with an instinctive urge to flee. If the horse had spotted a pack of wolves, he could not be more keyed up to bolt for safety. Slim hastily swung himself up behind the woman.

 _Take me home!_

The poignant song echoed in his head again and he felt his heart leap with longing to carry the woman to safety, to warmth and security and to shelter from the piercing grip of winter. She was so delicate in his arms, bones light as a bird's, flesh chill and smooth as old silk, and her hair heavy with the scent of the braided flowers. It did not occur to him to ask what flowers bloomed in the icy end-days on the threshold of winter.

He urged Alamo forward and his steed began to pace along the lake, his hooves brushing through the withered sage. The woman leaned sidelong in Slim's arms, her beautiful face upturned towards him as she sang without words, without sound – a song of loneliness and longing and love.

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **. . . . .**

 _This was turning out to be a labour of love – but love for whom?_ He could not help feeling that he had lost two friends now … and, far worse, had left the woman he cared for so deeply, left her alone as well.

Smoke made nothing of ascending the steep mountain slope, but Jess hunched down in the saddle, pulled his coat tighter and jammed his hat even further down over his eyes to shield his face from the chill moisture of the air. His collar was turned up round his ears and he blessed the long-ago day when Slim had insisted he spent some money on a robust winter coat. He was still so cold he could barely remember the heat of Texas in summer but he knew now that the Wyoming winter wouldn't last for ever, even though this year it seemed to be making a mighty early start. Doubtless the seasonal change was what had sent Stede out hunting again, along with loving the wilderness in a way which he never would farming. _And would he be grateful for this search which suggested that he couldn't care of himself? Definitely a labour of love and probably a thankless one!_ Jess reflected. And he wondered about a man turning aside from his natural inclination, for love - or so it seemed. Would it really work? Was a man capable of changing because of the love of a woman? Perhaps changing out of all recognition? Jess remembered the times he spent riding and fighting and drinking and getting into all manner of wild trouble with Stede.

And he remembered his first sight of Ann, when Stede had practically dragged him along to meet the woman for whom he was prepared to give up everything. Jess couldn't blame him. From the very first moment, Ann's unique integrity had hit him like a blow to the guts, shaking him profoundly and making him, for a moment, question the prior claims of his friend. But when he met her, Ann had already committed her heart and soul to Stede. She was not head-over-heels in love – she was deeply and realistically in love with the man she had chosen and was willing to share equally, with open eyes, both prosperity and adversity. Jess was a second-comer, too late, without a chance. He hid his true feelings well, but deep inside he wondered if, somewhere, there might be another woman like her: a woman who would work all day next you, walk through the desert beside you and stand face to face and undaunted, letting you know when she thought you were wrong. But it was an ideal, a hope, which he locked firmly away in the part of his mind which was not ruled by his heart. What mattered now was finding Ann's man.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

He had forgotten that he was hunting for a man.

Horse and rider and their slender burden drifted across the desolate upland, skirting the icy lake. The great dome of mist towered over them and yet glowed with the diffuse light of the distant sun. There was no movement in the air except that generated by their own passage – a passage leading still further into the remote, rocky heights. But the barren earth seemed yield up a fragrance as they passed. The slender column of the woman's neck was wreathed with her flower-entwined hair like a garland. Her skin was cold, her hands icy, and yet, as they moved, a warmth seemed to follow them, a hint of summer, a glow of autumn, but without the promise of any spring. The air grew thick and stifling, suffused with the odour of dank soil and decay; it clung clammily to the skin, somehow conveying heat and chill at the same time. Light pressed in upon them, gilding the dull earth and dark rocks with eerie splendour. It enclosed man and woman with a pallid halo, eclipsing all other vision.

He had forgotten that he was hunting for a man.

The woman and her beauty filled his eyes and his mind. Her despair and desire filled his heart. All that mattered was to carry her to safety. And safety lay ahead, in the narrow, shadowy canyons from which the river feeding the lake issued. The roar and hiss of the winter flood mingled with the rising moan of the wind along the cliff-face and both were blended into the woman's plaintive song:

 _Autumn is long past and gone,_

 _the squirrel's store is full,_

 _the harvest's done:_

 _no more sweet roots and honey-dew,_

 _the hunting fails, the darkness falls,_

 _I wait for you._

 _You do not come._

Slim knew what the song meant. This woman had been abandoned by some tribe on the winter trail, with the ruthless realism which left the weak and helpless behind to pay the price for the safety of many. But why had they left her? She was young and healthy and had no visible injury. Although she was light and slender, she was by no means frail. Slim could feel the core of pliant and indomitable strength in her; she was not one to give up and lie down by the wayside to die.

 _Who had she been waiting for? Was this the reason she had been left behind? Whoever it was, they had not come to her aid._

But he was here now. He had rescued her and he would not desert her as she had been deserted and abandoned before. She was of his own blood and, though she might have lived as a squaw, she was a white woman and had a right to his protection. He wondered that no-one had been trailing her, desperately seeking her, although he knew how hard such a quest would be.

He had no idea where they were going but he knew he had to continue riding until he reached the end. He had no idea how long he had been riding nor how long he would go on riding. Time and distance no longer trammelled him. He was not bound by the confines of human life. Some power rooted in the very earth itself was pervading and empowering him. In this instant and for eternity, he was dedicated invincibly to the woman.

Alamo stumbled and snorted, his head flung up and his eyes wide with the impulse to flight. Slim reined him in hard, determined that his mount would obey, even if he was not calm. They were in a narrow gulley between towering rock walls, the stormy waters foaming at their feet, the knife-edge wind driving mercilessly into their lungs. But immediately before them, horses were tethered in a picket line, their hides steaming as if they had been hard-ridden, their heads lowered in thankful rest. To the right was an archway in the rock-face, a doorway leading to refuge, to safety, to the security not of a temporary lodge but of a house of stone.

 _I have waited s-o-o long …_

The words were caught and wound into the sighing of the wind. The woman stirred in Slim's arms, her eyes brilliant, her mouth smiling. She took him by surprise and slid to the ground. She pivoted on her heel, twisting and swaying in a kind of dance as she led the way into the shadows beyond the arch. Slim dismounted and hitched Alamo with the other horses, disregarding the chestnut's frantic attempt to resist. It was the first time his horse had ever refused to co-operate with him and the surprise of it made him angry and more determined than ever that it would obey him. He tied the tether-rope in a fast knot to the picket line and turned to follow the woman, stooping under the low doorway.

They were not alone. Beyond the archway= a narrow cleft pierced the heart of the mountain, twisting and turning in a tortuous fashion. It was not a cave, but a fissure in the rock-face with a slit of translucent sky far, far above them. In the dim light he could just make out seated figures occupying the niches and recesses of the winding walls. They made no move or greeting. But the woman was outlined with the radiance of deep satisfaction.

 _They did not search! They did not rescue me! No-one came to claim and pluck the Ice Flower …_

Pure agony infused the words. Yet she was smiling at him still. Her beauty held all the warmth of summer, the glow of autumn, and the fragrance of her flowery hair filled the air. How could he fail her? How could he leave her in her suffering and forget that she existed? He could not do it. He would never do it. He would not be faithless like the others.

 _Then you came …_

He moved across the slippery rock floor in a dream. All he could see was her wild eyes and the heart-breaking appeal in them. Eyes which should be closed with loving kisses and never have to look on horror and betrayal again.

Slim bent his head …

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

 **. . . . .**

Jess bent low over Smoke's shoulder, scanning the tracks at the lake edge. _At last! A clear and evident trail to follow!_ He was certain the hoof-prints were Alamo's: he'd shod the horse often enough and knew his weight and the length of his stride and how he pecked with the near fore when he was nervous.

 _Alamo had been nervous!_

Jess straightened up and leaned forward to run a gentle hand over Smoke's ears and crest. The grey was alert, but still relaxed. No sign of the tension which Jess could read from Alamo's tracks. _Still, there was reason to be cautious – cautious but also swift …_

He nudged the grey into motion and they cantered purposefully along the edge of the lake. Alamo's tracks were clear and fresh. Below them, Jess could detect the prints of another horse, recent, within the last few days. And below those he thought he could make out fainter, older tracks – much older – all heading in the same direction.

Urgency overtook Jess. His mind said caution, but his heart and something in his spirit were driving him to the impetuous reckless action with which he so characteristically responded to any threat to those he cared for. He sensed an evil reaching out for Slim and, regardless of what common sense or logical thought might suggest, he would not let it triumph. And he had a responsibility for Stede. He had not forgotten that he was hunting for Ann's husband, but instinct and logic said the two quests were related. All he had to go on was the tracks. He would follow them to the end. He urged Smoke into a gallop.

They raced across the plateau and into the winding labyrinth of canyons, each one deeper and narrower than the last. The trail was clear, despite the way the mist was narrowing down to limit their options. The light was fading. The cold wind stirred and began to bite them in the face. The sense of impending doom increased with every stride.

Suddenly Smoke dug in his forelegs, sliding to a halt, braced and with his head flung up. He let out a shrill snort of fear and was instantly answered by a deep, pleading whicker from Alamo and the strangled cry of another horse. Smoke's eyes widened, riveted on what was immediately in front of them, and so did his rider's.

Alamo was tied efficiently to a weathered picket rope. It was weathered because it has been in place for a very long time. It had been in place for a very long time because the horses tied to it were nothing more than bony skeletons, held together by tatters of hide and sinew. All except Alamo and the dun next to him, foam-streaked from its struggle to escape, a horse which Jess instantly recognised as Stede's.

Jess hastily backed up his mount until the hideous sight was hidden. Then he slid to the ground and dropped Smoke's reins, trusting to his training that, despite the circumstances, the grey would stay where he was. He moved quietly and slowly to Alamo. The chestnut ducked his head and rubbed vigorously against Jess in an ecstasy of relief. Jess spent some minutes caressing and soothing the horse before turning his attention to the knots restraining him. Alamo had been tied without the usual quick-release knots which would have made it easy to free him. Jess did not waste time trying to unpick them. He just used his knife to slash the rope tethering Alamo and did the same for Stede's dun. He led the pair out of sight of the grisly picket line and encouraged them to stand with Smoke. Then he took in his surroundings.

He was standing at the bottom of a narrow gulley between towering rock walls - the translucent sky far, far above, the stormy waters foaming below, the knife-edge wind driving mercilessly through. To his right was an archway in the rock-face, a doorway leading to …

Jess moved silently, stealthily, into the shadowy entrance. He paused a few feet inside the archway to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. There seemed to be a phosphorescent glow around the hollows and recesses of the twisting walls. And in that glow, he was able to examine the inhabitants of the cleft …

He saw pale forms, death-pale, every one of them. His outstretched hand encountered icy skin and frozen bone. His senses were suffused with the odour of dank flesh and decay. He saw starved lips in the gloom, gaping wide with a horrible warning.

Jess drew in a shuddering breath and steeled himself to move forward. Slim was somewhere ahead, deep in this hideous sepulchre, and Jess was damned if he was going to leave him there! With infinite care, he took one stealthy step after another, moving like a dark shadow through the eerie light, moving like a living wraith among the all too solid dead, moving with inexorable purpose. Past a young man in the dark blue of a cavalry officer … past three figures in the leather gear of hunters … past the moth-eaten furs of a solitary trapper … past a boy in ragged dungarees … past many bodies, motionless, encased in bonds of ice …

At length he reached the end of the gauntlet of frozen watchers, the very end of the cleft. Slim was right in front of him, his head bent, his body stooping low in homage to –

Jess hit him a back-handed blow across the mouth.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**

Slim's eyes flashed open and his mouth snarled: "What the hell was that for!"

"Slim, wake up, for God's sake! Wake up! We've got to get the hell out of here!"

 _Hell_ summed it all up.

The blow had reconnected Slim's entranced vision to reality – a reality staring him in the eye. He was bending low over a mummified, frozen corpse. The remains of the face leered up at him. The body was emaciated, pared down to the bare bones of humanity. The skin was gelid and gilded with frost. But the long braids of blond hair were still thick, framing the contours of the skull and tumbling across the bony shoulders and skeletal torso.

"Come on! Move!" Jess's hand on his arm was urgent, imperative, dragging him away from the horror to which he had committed his heart. Jess's voice insisted: "We've gotta get out of here!"

Quite why he felt such a sense of urgency, Jess could not explain, unless it was the realisation that no man had ever left this place alive. He hadn't bothered to count the bodies on his way in, but there were enough to suggest the process had been going on for years. There was great power stored in the very walls of the cleft and he could sense it pulsing in dead air of the narrow hollow between. He didn't want to breathe a lungful more of that air than he had to.

He wrapped an arm round Slim, horrified to feel how cold he was and how sluggish his movements had become. They stumbled back towards the entrance, Jess half-towing, half-carrying his partner. Already the chill was seeping into their bones and their breath dragged ice into their lungs. The dank air was so thick it felt as if they were wading through it, one laboured step after the other. An invisible wall of power pressed them back, barring them from the light and warmth of humanity.

But at last the archway was directly before them. Jess released Slim and gave him a vigorous push in the direction of freedom. "Run for the horses and get on Alamo!" he yelled in his ear. "Understand?"

Slim stared at him in a horrified daze. "Aren't you coming?"

Jess glared at him. "Stede's back there. I saw him. And I ain't leavin' either of y' in here. Now move!" His hand struck Slim again between the shoulder-blades, so that he stumbled and lurched towards the threshold. "Get the horses ready. We're gonna need a quick getaway!"

Drawing a deep breath of the relatively clean air coming from the doorway, Jess turned and plunged once more into the depths of the cleft. This time he did not move cautiously. Speed was essential. He raced back down the slippery, sloping floor to the recess where he had seen Stede.

The young man was crouched in the same position as all the other frozen corpses, his head bowed on his chest, his arms tightly folded. For a moment, Jess doubted that he was breathing. Then he saw a tenuous mist issuing from the immobile man's lips. The movement of his ribs was just discernible. His skin was deathly white and coated with a faint rime like frost. There was no way he was going to be able to walk out of there as Slim had. Jess paused to consider how to move him. That was his mistake. He should have grabbed and run.

A single note rang out in the frigid air. The compulsion to turn towards the sound was irresistible. The music began to swell, weaving a net of sparkling brilliance in the gloom. The appeal to common humanity and universal justice burned with an implacable power. He was being rendered powerless by his own pity and duty to protect all women. His limbs were bound, his throat convulsed, his whole being shaken by the power of the emotion which was bearing down upon body and soul. The only thing that mattered was to serve and protect and embrace the singer.

But Jess had seen the fate of those who did. He had seen the reality of the one who sang. With every ounce of his stubborn will, he strove to resist the enchantment. The song was mesmerizing and the demand to right the wrong done to this woman compulsive. But he knew in his heart he could do nothing. The tragedy was far in the past, the opportunity to rescue the victim from her horrific situation long gone. He had come here in the service of a living woman, to fulfil loyally the rights of friendship and to make a real difference to her future.

Jess clung to the thought of Ann in desperation. He remembered her warmth, her generosity, her integrity, her laughter. He remember the teasing question: _Why hasn't some woman snapped you up?_ He'd made a joking reply about escaping on a fast horse, but clung now to the true answer: _Because I still want a woman who is married to someone else!_ He asked for nothing but to be able to do anything in his power to serve this woman, who deserved so much respect for her faithful, unconditional love for her husband.

He wrenched himself away, turning back to the man he had come to rescue. He was clinging in his mind and his heart and his soul to real love and rejecting the insidious lure of calamitous magic. He bent and hefted Stede over his shoulder and ran.

 **. . . . .**

 **. . . . . . . . . .**


	3. Chapter 3

_I awoke,_

 _found myself here_

 _on the cold hill's side._

 **….**

 **3**

 **Waking**

 **….**

Slim - _God bless him!_ – was right outside the entrance with the three horses. Jess slung Stede unceremoniously over the dun horse, vaulted on to Smoke and led them in a furious gallop down the twisting path through the canyons until at last they burst out into the open space of the plateau. Even then he did not stop the mad career, sweeping them round to the right, along the base-line of the upper peaks, desperately seeking some refuge from the freezing grip of terror.

They could not go on like this. It was a miracle that Stede had not toppled from his horse and Slim was deathly pale and reeling in his saddle. _There must be some shelter somewhere_! Jess scoured the terrain ahead, hoping for a line-shack, a mining cabin, a hunter's bothy – anything which would protect them from the cold and, entwined with it, the malevolent power that haunted this bare, silent, withered upland.

At last his search was rewarded. It was hard to tell exactly what the shelter was – a dilapidated hut was probably the best description. But it had four walls to protect them from the wind and a stove-pipe sticking out of the roof, which meant that they could get warm.

Jess pulled Stede from the dun's back and carried him into the hut. There was no furniture, but the floor was a deep bed of dry bracken. Jess hastily kicked it into a pile, before lowering Stede down gently. The young man still looked sheet-white and utterly frozen. He was cramped in the crouched position in which Jess had found him, which was probably why he had not fallen from his horse in their stampeding get-away. When Jess made an attempt to straighten him out more comfortably there was no response from the rigid limbs. Only the whisper of breath and the slightest movement of his ribs showed that Stede was still living. Jess heaped some bracken over him to provide insulation and went outside again.

Slim was slumped over Alamo's neck, almost as far gone as Stede. The effort of fighting free of the cleft and maneuvering the unwilling horses, not to mention the furious ride, had taken their toll. Shock and horror and a miserable sense of failure were immobilising him, despite his fervent desire to take charge of his own safety and not to be a burden. But his body was drained of life and energy. He could hardly cling to the edge of consciousness and was adrift in a world of deception and shadows in which nothing real remained.

"Slim! Wake up! Answer me, will y'!"

That was Jess. Stubborn. Loyal. Reckless. And never going to back down until he got the answer he wanted! So real. A sudden warmth flooded through Slim. In a world which seemed to have come loose from its foundations, there were some things which did not change.

"Darn you! Come on, get down off y' horse!"

A grin of relief lifted Slim's lips as rough hands grabbed him and pulled him to the earth.

"Wake up or I'm gonna have t'hit you again!"

"Yeah? You and whose army?" Slim quipped shakily.

"Just me. Ain't gonna need any back-up the way you're lookin' right now," Jess answered back. "Now come on in out of the cold."

His strong, warm arms enfolded his partner, lending strength and encouragement to Slim's own determination to survive. They were staggering like a couple of drunks, which would have been funny if the cause were not so horrific. But they made it into the hut and Jess helped Slim lower himself into the warm, soft bedding and heaped it around him as he had done with Stede.

"Stay still. Rest easy. I'm gonna get the fire goin'."

Fortunately someone had left a wood-pile for the stove and it was not long before Jess had it glowing. He fetched in the bedrolls they each carried and wrapped the two survivors up as well as he could. They had no supplies, not so much as a coffee bean between them, but Jess heated up water anyway. Even this poor substitute for a proper drink was more warming than nothing. After that, he made sure the horses were comfortable in the lee of the hut. It was obvious they would be there for the night.

Jess sat awake, all night, keeping watch. He kept the fire blazing, the bedding and blankets firmly tucked round his two patients and periodically he heated water to bath Stede's icy skin. When he checked Slim, he found, to his enormous relief, that normal warmth was returning to his body quite rapidly. His partner slept soundly and peacefully, curled up and burrowing into the warm bedding with a determination which would have done justice to Jess himself. The simple trust of this was immensely moving for Jess. _He had found Slim in time! But Stede …_

It was not until the darkest hour before dawn that Jess saw any change in Stede's condition. The appearance of melting frost began to creep over his translucent skin. His lips moved and his breathing seemed to be a fraction stronger. A while after this he began to stir occasionally and very uneasily in his sleep.

 _If it was sleep_ …

Jess was doubtful. Slim had done nothing irrevocable and his was a normal, natural sleep, albeit an exhausted one. But Stede had been trapped in the cleft of corpses at least a day longer. There was no knowing what had happened in that time, but it was not hard to guess. If Jess had not stopped Slim – his stomach heaved, despite having eaten nothing for hours, at the thought of what would have happened. How far had Stede gone down that macabre path? He had not yet frozen to death like the other victims and he hadn't been –

"What's happened?" Slim rolled over with a groan. "Where am I?"

"Safe," Jess told him succinctly.

"And warm!" Slim stretched and hitched himself into sitting position. "You have no idea how cold I was."

Jess had a pretty good idea, actually, but he said nothing, just dropped another couple of branches on the fire.

Slim stretched out his hands to the heat. "You've kept it going all night."

"Yeah."

"Thanks!"

Jess ducked his head and looked away, as he always did when he was trying to hide his feelings. Slim regarded him thoughtfully for a few moments as he reviewed what he knew of the way he and Stede had been saved. Then he said gently: "You had a hell of a job handling both of us. You haven't slept. You haven't eaten." He grinned just a little at his last statement, knowing this was probably the worst suffering for Jess.

"I'm fine!"

"You are not!" Long experience told Slim that he would never get Jess to admit to any need for taking account of his physical state, but he could always appeal to his practicality. "You need to rest. It won't do any of us any good if you end up in the same condition as we are."

Jess gave him a bleak grin. "Got more sense!" he teased grimly and closed the subject by checking on Stede again.

Slim watched the careful ministrations and wondered why they were in the hut at all. "We should get him home as soon as possible."

"No."

The blunt monosyllable made Slim jump. His forehead creased in a frown as he watched Jess rubbing Stede's hands and gently, very gently straightening out his rigid fingers. Once they were flexing more or less normally, Jess worked gradually up the young man's arms and his shoulders and neck, massaging the stiff muscles and frozen joints.

Stede's breath ghosted in a sigh, which Slim echoed. "Why can't we just take him back to his wife?" he demanded in puzzled tones. "He'll have all the care he needs."

"No!" Jess's tone was edged with the stubborn will-power which Slim knew could neither be coerced nor persuaded nor broken. There was still no explanation. Jess just eased Stede's body into a more natural position, so that he was no longer doubled up as he had been when sitting in the hollow recess.

"Why?" Slim asked again.

"You saw the others?"

"What others?"

"There were other men in that place."

"Yes. The ones who betrayed her. The ones who deserted her. The heartless. The traitors!" Slim's voice had gone cold and flat and bitingly sharp.

"Slim! Stop it!" Jess reached over and seized his arm in a painful grip. "Wake up!" He administered a good shaking, which would have done justice to the ones Slim had often given him.

"Wh – what? What was I saying? I dreamed … I dreamed something … a cold hillside … a bright flower … a beautiful dream …"

"A nightmare, more like," Jess reminded him sternly. "There were dead men, Slim. Frozen. They weren't desertin' anyone. Not anymore."

"But Stede's with us now."

"Is he?" A shadow of pain crossed Jess's face as he looked at the friend he had come to find. "His body is here, but his spirit? I was able to stop you before y' –" He broke off abruptly, looking for an instant as if he was going to throw up. It took several deep breaths before he went on: "You can shake off her power. But even now, it can take you over, if y' don't keep awake and alert."

Slim nodded silently in acknowledgement. He was beginning to understand.

"Stede was there longer than you," Jess continued with ruthless realism. "I don't know what he did. How far he committed himself. Or how far he's possessed. If we take him back before he's free, he'll carry that allegiance … he'll carry the curse inside him an' …" His breath hitched and he stopped abruptly again.

"And?" Slim prompted softly.

"An' it'll go on. It'll never end. An' what we saw … it won't be just in this place. It'll be wherever Stede carries it!" His eyes blazed as he challenged Slim. "And you want me to take him back to Ann?"

"No. No, I understand we can't. So what do we do?"

"We have to wake him. Then we'll know if he's lost or not."

They looked at each other for a long moment, relief and affection in both their eyes as they realised how nearly they had lost each other. But there was trepidation too, in the knowledge that now they had to call back to reality someone who was not connected in the same way by the deep ties which linked the two of them. Somehow they had to extend their powerful closeness to a young man who had already been willing to betray Jess and whom Slim hardly knew at all. Jess drew in a deep breath and reached out to take Stede by the shoulders.

"I guess we need t' do this the hard way!"

He proceeded to shake the young man vigorously, then slapped him sharply across the face several times. "Come on, Stede! Wake up! Now!" The shaking and blows continued for some minutes until Stede's eyes slowly rolled open.

"Waz happnin'?"

"Wake up! You've got to snap out of it!"

"Jess?"

"Yeah. Now pull y'self together. Y' don't have much time!"

"Wher'am I?"

"Out of that place, that canyon. You're -"

Jess got no further. A curious change came over Stede and he sat bolt upright, rigid as if he had been frozen again. His expression was not that of the lively young man whom Jess had known. His lips drew back in a snarl and his eyes narrowed to blazing slits. Then all the rage was wiped out as if a blizzard had swept over the landscape of his face. His expression was so haggard and so woebegone, his brow moist as if with fever, but the flush which had returned to his cheeks suddenly faded into the white of frost once more. He began to speak in low, harsh tones – a terrible, agonised whisper, quite unlike his normal voice:

" _I am the Ice Flower. The forgotten one. They named me so because winter brought a terrible beauty to my white skin, my pale hair. Because I suffered such agony in the icy mountains, the stone-cold country, where others were at home. There was no home for me. No home to return to. No-one to seek and rescue me. As I travelled this vast and empty land, I left a trail behind me, scraps of my diary and locks of my hair, to guide my rescuers after – but no-one came. The men who pledged to care for me – my husband, my father, my brothers – they did not come. Alone I stumbled on frozen bleeding feet, in the wake of an alien people across an unforgiving land. Alone. Always. Until the end."_

As he spoke – or rather the voice spoke through him – something froze again in Slim's heart. His eyes rolled back in his head and closed tight. The agony, the isolation once more exerted their chill grip on him. Nothing mattered except the inimical desire for revenge. Revenge not upon those who had abducted the woman, but on those who had failed to find and rescue her.

"The betrayers. The deserters. The heartless. The traitors!"

Jess gave a low growl of pure exasperation and was tempted to back-hand him again. But Slim had shaken off the spell: he was willing to help, if only Jess could keep him anchored him in reality. He put his arm round his friend's shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "Slim, come back, will y'! Y're out of it. Y' don't need revenge for anythin'. It's over!"

He held on tight, hoping and praying. Slim gave a convulsive shudder and his eyes snapped open again. "Jess?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here. Now will y' pack in this mystical stuff and pay attention? I need y' help, partner!"

There could have been no more effective antidote to the terrible power trying to possess Slim. Jess's words brought him right back to simple humanity, to the strong bond of friendship and honour between them, to the many dangers they had come through together. If Jess needed his help, nothing would prevent Slim giving it!

"Tell me what to do."

"I don't know," Jess admitted. "You're the one who's been through this. How did you come back?"

Slim had no hesitation in answering. "You pulled me. You were real –" His voice faltered for a moment, before he went on: "You sounded just like yourself. I hung on to the ordinary, the everyday. You know: sharing work and meals and jokes and the times we fight. Keeping each other's backs. Not being able to get you up in the morning. Stuff like that."

The confession brought a real grin to Jess's lips for the first time since this strange quest had begun and he tightened his hug for a moment. "Yeah, stuff like that makes it real," he agreed.

"So I guess we need to reconnect Stede to his reality," Slim suggested shrewdly.

"Yeah, to what really matters!" Jess released Slim and turned his attention to Stede.

The young man had remained sitting upright, still as stone, his face expressionless, his eyes unfocused, as if he were just an instrument of the power which was inhabiting him. Jess crouched down in front of him and met his gaze. There was no sign of life or feeling in Stede's eyes. He was remote, impassive and utterly cold.

After a few moments, Jess leaned forward and grabbed Stede by his shirt. "Get up! Stand up like a man, damn you!" He rose abruptly to his own feet, pulling the young man with him. "You have a wife waiting for you. A woman worth more than you'll ever understand."

Stede's eyes regained their focus, but it was not with the return of his real character. His voice was a sibilant whisper: "Precious Ice Flower … I found you … I will never leave –"

"Yes you damn well will!" Jess shook him so violently Slim was afraid Stede's neck would snap. "You're going home. Remember home? Remember Ann?"

A troubled look surged across Stede's face in a manner which was painful to watch. The struggle in his mind and heart looked fit to tear him apart. But the power was strong and it was not going to let go of its prey easily. Stede scowled and his eyes were lit by that savage and relentless glow again. "I am disloyal."

"Too right you are!" Jess shook him again, but his own voice shook as he reminded Stede: "You're married. You made vows. You promised Ann –"

"I promised to set right the wrongs done to her. I must atone for the betrayal."

"You're betraying Ann, y' idiot! She's waiting for you. She's out of her mind with fear."

"She has no fear. The Ice Flower endured the winter. The trail. The torture. Day after day. Month after month. Until months grew into years and no-one came to carry her home."

Jess sighed but continued implacably: " _You_ have to come home. Home, Stede. Remember the house and the yard? Remember the smoke from the chimney and the fire inside? Remember the warmth and welcome?"

Stede's face convulsed with pain, as if he was struggling to call to mind the physical things which Jess was evoking. "Warmth?" His voice sounded uncertain, but human again. "I remember warmth … the fire … the lamp …"

"That's right." Jess's voice was soft, calming, quite unlike the stern tones he had used a moment ago. "You're at the door, taking off y' boots. You open the door. The room's bright and quiet. The fire is hot and the lamp is glowin'. The table is set and there's food, wholesome and savoury, on the stove. Ann is waitin' for you. The firelight is glinting on her hair - "

"Her hair is so beautiful …"

Jess murmured, "Yeah … so beautiful … like polished mahogany with the light callin' out the gold …"

Slim stared at him in amazement. Jess's face was dreamy, absorbed, as if he was touched by something utterly beautiful and totally unobtainable. Slim had never seen him like this before. There was something here of which he had been completely unaware.

Stede was somewhere else entirely and responded: "Her hair is gold, with flowers braided in it like dusky petals scattered on the snow. The tribute of those who should have cherished her."

A shudder ran through Slim and he gasped: "The men in the canyon!"

"Yeah!" Jess gulped visibly "They'd been scalped – every one. And the scalps-locks are braided in her hair!"

"N-o-oo!" Stede howled and writhed as if something was being dragged physically out of him, but the truth of the horror and its contrast to real love were not enough. He seemed to be fading visibly from their presence, no matter how they tried to anchor him. Slim was horrified to feel himself being sucked back into the evil that had ensnared them both. Every part of him was crying _No! Save us! Free us!_ but humanity seemed to be slipping from his grasp as if his fingers were trying to cling on to sheer ice.

He was confounded to hear Jess snarl: "Ok, stay here! Give up. Don't fight for what matters. Forget who you really are!"

Jess and Stede were face to face, standing confronting to each other because Jess had dragged him to his feet. Now Jess glared at his sometime friend with total contempt. It was as if they were about to engage in a fight, with guns or knives or maybe just their bare fists. Jess was braced for action but Stede opposed him with the same cold inhumanity which had controlled him since he had been aroused from his frozen subjugation.

"You aren't worth anyone's love," Jess told Stede. "You have a woman beyond price, who's committed herself to you for life. Men would fight to have her love, her devotion. But you – y' don't want it. Y' don't care. If y'd ever really valued Ann, you'd never have gotten into a damn trap like this in the first place."

"No! You're wrong!" Jess's accusation struck a spark of feeling in Stede.

"And you're too late!" Jess continued mercilessly. "If you don't care, I do. I'll take her from you and there's nothing y' can do about it! She's seen how close to the edge of evil y're willing to go. D'you think she's gonna give you another chance?"

Stede groaned and struggled against the grasp Jess had on him. "I won't let you!"

"You won't let me?" Jess's voice was laden with scorn. "D'you think Ann is goin' to choose you over me? I can take her from you any time I like! And the only reason I haven't done it sooner is because she still felt something for y'."

"She loves me." Stede's voice was a mere whisper.

"No she doesn't," Jess asserted ruthlessly, his voice deep with passion. "She'll come with me if I ask her an' I'll make sure she has everythin' she could ever want. I'll love her as she deserves to be loved. She's never gonna feel deserted or ignored again. There's nothin' you can do to get her back!"

"You thieving, scheming bastard!" Stede lashed out in fury, catching Jess a hard punch to the jaw which sent him staggering back. "You planned this! You meant me to die so you could have her." He was shouting and sobbing at the same time. "You'll never take her from me. I'll kill you first!"

His fists flew ferociously, pummelling Jess to the floor. Stede jumped on his chest, pinning him down and raining blows which Jess made no attempt to ward off. Slim's instinctive reaction to this attack on his partner was to haul Stede off and thrash the life out of him, but something held him back. Within him, he felt the icy grip on his heart and mind weakening, as if the heat of Stede's fury and his love for Ann was banishing the possessive power from them both.

Just on the edge of hearing, the single note rang out – grew – swelled to a crescendo.

Stede ignored it. He grabbed Jess by the neck and glared into his face. "Ann is mine! My wife! My love! I'll never give her up to you …" His whole body shook with jealousy and passion as the last traces of enchantment were driven from his heart.

"You'd better be very sure about that!" Jess croaked through the stranglehold Stede had on his throat.

"I've never been surer of anything!"

The sound rang out once more. Pure. High. Piercing. Reverberating. Like a bitter windstorm, it swept into the hut, shattering the walls and blasting all protection from them. A compulsive force ran through their bodies as they were wrenched out of shelter and thrown helpless on to the bare and desolate stage of the mountain plateau. There was nothing but the cold hillside walled with silver mist. Nothing except the numinous halo of light which grew stronger and more solid with each second.

The brightness seared their eyes as it swiftly compressed into the form of a woman. An old woman. White-haired, wind-scoured and bent beneath a load of grief too heavy for any human to carry alone. But, as they watched, the ancient form seemed to change, growing more upright and slender, transforming in the blink of an eye into a statuesque woman and, last of all, to a graceful girl. A glowing flower of radiant beauty. Radiant, but deadly.

The voice sang. No longer the music of enchantment, they listened to the call of an animal, a thin echoing howl, a mewling screech. The sound was harsh, discordant. It pierced the ear and the heart like a jagged blade. It reached out with all the power of the earth and the air and the ice of winter. Reached – and failed.

The cry echoed on the wind, wavering and finally fading into a long drawn-out sob. And then, silence.

Stede collapsed, doubled over, retching as if to rid his body of the poison that had corrupted him. Slim had dropped to his knees, his hands outstretched save Jess from the punishment Stede had been inflicting. Jess lay very still, as if the life had indeed been beaten out of him.

At last he rolled over and scrambled to his feet. He grabbed his two friends by the arm and hauled them upright. "Time to move on, the pair of y'! There's nothin' here now!"

 **# # # # #**

The three horses made good speed down through the icy forest, following a broad trail which did not seem to have been there before. As they rode, the mist began to break up and the weak winter sun, already low in the sky, sent pale golden beams through the bare trees. A faint warmth enveloped them as they came down the lower slopes of the mountain. The horses' hooves rustled through the fallen leaves and stirred up the dark, rich earth. The bitter smell of leaf-mold and the pungence of drying wood perfumed the air, with a hint of charcoal-smoke coming from somewhere not far below. They did not talk, but were wrapped in a strong, thankful companionship which needed no words.

As they got nearer to the farmstead, Stede forged ahead at a precipitous gallop which was distinctly reckless on such a steep downhill slope. But the eagerness in his heart outweighed all other consideration and, in any case, caution had never been one of his traits. Slim flung a questioning glance at Jess. Jess just shrugged; Slim could not read the feeling in his eyes, for his face impassive and shadowed by the brim of his hat.

 _What was going to happen next_? Slim could not imagine. The way in which Jess had challenged Stede to prove his love for Ann had been life-saving, but at what cost to Jess himself? Slim was totally disconcerted because he had not realised how deep Jess's feelings ran - not even when Mike had picked up the significance of Jess's reaction when Ann had kissed him as the Rhodes were leaving the relay station after their first visit. But Jess had done everything in his power to rescue Stede and return him to his wife, in exactly the same way as he had struggled to save Slim. Loyalty and friendship always outweighed everything else, qualities for which Slim had the uttermost respect and thankfulness.

It was not long before the trees of the forest fell away and they were riding down through the upper pasture, with the house lying snugly below them in the hollow of the land. Smoke trickled lazily from the chimney. As the day waned towards evening, lamp-light shone from the windows. Drifting on the air was the faint scent of something savoury.

Stede did not slow down, but Jess pulled Smoke to a halt and Slim drew rein beside him. They watched from a distance as the young man swung into the yard and leapt from his horse and ran towards the house. At the open door, a figure was waiting with outstretched arms.

Jess gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Good. That's all right, then." He jammed his hat down even further over his eyes and turned Smoke towards the southern trail.

"Let's go home!"

But as they rode on, Slim thought he could just see, under the brim of that hat, a bright diamond glint at the edge of those blue eyes. Above them the wind began to speak softly with its own voice through the forest and from somewhere nearby the liquid song of a blackbird rose pure into the evening air.

.

* * *

.

Notes:

The original inspiration for this story was the extraordinarily beautiful and eerie weather conditions which form the setting for it. These actually occurred in our border country early in 2016 and seemed to me to be asking for imaginative development.

This story is, fairly obviously, based around one of my favourite poems, _La Belle Dame Sans Merci_ by John Keats. The lady's motivation has always fascinated me! Another source is the suffering and often fatal experience of women who were abducted during the struggle to open up the West to white settlers. The marking of the trail with a ripped-up book and the mystical canyon occur in _Narrative of my captivity among the Sioux Indians_ by Fanny Kelly (1871). The bridal tunic is described in an account by Edward S. Godfrey of the 7th Cavalry.

There is no intention in this story or its companion piece, _Eagle of Bone,_ of addressing the actual historical issues surrounding the displacement of the Native American peoples by Europeans. There were tragedies and horrors on both sides. A simple respect for both peoples is offered in these stories.

'Starved' (in the poem) in English originally meant 'frozen'.

'The bugling sound a bull elk makes sounds like a high pitched scream interspersed with grunts. Some people have described the sound as an eerie, guttural and ghostly singing. '

Acknowledgement: _For all chapters: The great creative writing of the 'Laramie' series is respectfully acknowledged. My stories are purely for pleasure and are inspired by the talents of the original authors, producers and actors._


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